Preparations for Dinah’s birthday were going smoothly, or at least as smoothly as it could given the size of the event. A princess’ birthday was no minor undertaking, be it from a political standpoint or general logistics. Nobles, foreign dignitaries, merchants, performers, and commoners alike would all converge on the royal capital in a week’s time. An entire fairground was already set up and beginning to welcome visitors, a tent city having sprung into existence on the allotted land some time ago. Dante hadn’t even noticed it until now, but the view from the balcony as he indulged in a brief reprieve made it clear that his schedule would be this hectic for the foreseeable future.

Part of their reserve soldiers were on loan to the various officials in charge of coordinating the event, which Dante had to imagine was the reason everything had come together so fast. His own men–what were left of them, at least–were busy training the newcomers that had been assigned to fill out their numbers. He realized with a sigh that he would have to earn the trust of an entire new batch of soldiers. Another task for the list.

Dante had been tied up in meetings for some time now. While other nations may let princes wile away their time with vice and pomp, the governance of the Andrade Kingdom was a family affair. Dinah had been in most of the meetings as well, although she had been pulled away yesterday to give feedback on the preparations and had yet to return. It was difficult without her there; she was usually his political buffer, so to speak. Still, he didn’t begrudge her the absence.

I hope you’re getting enough rest, sister, he thought into the air. Gods know we both need it.

The main topic of the series of recent meetings had been a tense one. Put simply, they were strategizing how to deal with the inevitable onslaught of inquiry and judgment regarding the incident half a year ago. Even after disappearing, that priestess was still a pain in the ass. 

That thought put a grim smile on his face. He knew he was lucky to have survived the two encounters he had had with that woman, and part of him wondered why she hadn’t come for him when she was clearly trying to harm their kingdom. That wasn’t him being vain or self-important either; Dinah had made it very clear to him what his death would mean for the kingdom when he had volunteered to lead his soldiers to face her. 

Dinah had also explained to him her theory as to why the priestess hadn’t killed him, but the idea that Charlotte had wanted to keep the public on her side and paint herself as some kind of folk hero felt wildly incongruous with the slaughter that he had witnessed.

Maybe we should’ve invited the public to watch, he thought, his inner voice biting and derisive.

Dante’s role for the upcoming celebration had largely been settled, so he had been dismissed to rest and prepare. All he had to do was put on a show during the celebration. More specifically, a show of force. In front of all gathered attendees, Dante would spend an entire day as one of the princess’ champions. It was a role normally split between a number of knights and nobles, but this year the prince himself would be counted among their number. They needed to project strength. What better way to do that than by very publicly crushing challenger after challenger seeking a boon from his sister? 

They would not announce his participation before the event itself began. That was more of a safety measure than anything else. While the shocking development of having the prince suddenly show up and make himself available for challenges was certainly a nice bonus that would help distract the nobles and steer discourse, the greater reason was that they didn’t want to give anyone the chance to plan to face him. If someone knew before the day of the event that they could fight the prince, it might encourage scheming or underhanded tactics. 

Even the most stable and well-managed of nations had dissenters, and it would be foolish to assume the nobility were above using dirty tricks to grow their influence. 

Competitors rarely died in these events, but injuries were common. Blunted blades removed a certain level of risk but amplified the possibility of broken bones and other impact wounds. A match between skilled combatants probably wouldn’t result in injuries; after all, someone who knows what they’re doing knows that flailing about and swinging wildly is pointless. A certain level of chivalry was always observed as well, meaning most competitors would refrain from trying to injure each other for a quick and dirty win and would readily admit when they are beaten. Problems were more likely to arise with less experienced combatants.

It was often said that the easiest opponent in a game of cards is someone who’s been playing for years and years. An experienced player will stick to proven strategies, so as long as you’re aware of the strategies you can counter them. Playing against someone who doesn’t know the theory behind the game was infinitely more difficult. They play their hands erratically and randomly, sometimes even making moves that run counter to their own interests. If you try to use logic and strategy against such an opponent, you can end up falling into a trap that even the opponent didn’t know they were setting. 

Put simply, fighting a well-trained opponent would be a contest of skill while fighting a madman swinging wildly would be an exercise in luck. 

The reward for challengers who managed to win–asking one boon of the princess–had been proven through practice to be more than enough to draw out greedy and vainglorious morons. They offered this reward mostly out of tradition. It was a relic of a bygone era’s noblesse oblige that served to reaffirm the prosperity of the kingdom through the generosity of the royal family. Competitors paid to challenge the champions for the chance at a boon and the collected money would be used for a public works project of the princess’ choice. That project would be advertised very loudly among the commoners of course. 

The royal family was always very particular in picking champions as well. If no boons were ever granted, the people might start thinking they were only paying lip-service. By the same token, having a bunch of push-overs as champions would make them look like generous fools at best or weak and ineffectual rulers ripe for overthrowing at worst. 

Still, Dante had a feeling that it would be up to him and him alone to decide if any boons were granted at this event. As soon as his name was announced challengers would flock to his line for the chance to match blades with the dragon himself. That nickname made him cringe, but he couldn’t deny that it was solid branding. Another gift his loving sister had given him in the name of governance.

Dante’s thoughts continued to linger on the event for some time. His mind circled around the details of the competition, the importance of his task, and the inherent risk involved before diverting to his sister. She had been running herself ragged trying to repair and bolster the family’s reputation and hold on the public. He felt guilty about his lack of skill in political matters. If only he had the knack for it, Dinah might be able to relax for once.

Still, he would do what he could. It was his greatest hope that his part in all this might lift even a fraction of the burden from the rest of his family. He might not have a silver tongue, but his spear, that was golden.

Resolved, Dante stood and made his way to a training field hidden among the barracks. 

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